


pick your battles, choose your wars

by endae



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Angst, Arguing, Bitterness, Family, Gen, Post Episode: s02e12 A Tale of Two Stans, Pre-Episode: s02e13 Dungeons Dungeons and More Dungeons, Secrets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:55:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25555438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/endae/pseuds/endae
Summary: The night after Ford's reappearance, Stan's condition of him staying away from the kids is still steadfast at the front of his mind. And as long as they don't know, he's determined to keep it that way.It's only easy until it isn't.
Relationships: Dipper Pines & Stan Pines
Comments: 6
Kudos: 80





	pick your battles, choose your wars

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted July 28, 2017.
> 
> _[Prompt: "I'm not gonna keep having this conversation."]_

_“But it’s not fair, Grunkle Stan!”_

It might not be, but at this moment, he doesn’t care.

Stan’s lost track of the number of times they’ve gone back and forth like this. It’s late — for Dipper, it’s _too_ late, and just another reason to end this quickly. But defiant as he is, standing firm before him across the gift shop’s counter, he held the stance of someone ready to take this as far as it can go.

He’s not backing down.

Dipper’s not the first one to come to mind at the thought _‘threatening,’_ but facing him as he was now, arms raised and gaze piercing, he could give it a run for his money. Stan punches the buttons of the cash register with nonchalance, as if there’s even anything to count today.

With the Shack and half the town still in shambles, it’s been quiet.

He’ll resort to any mindless task, any opportunity to keep them from making eye contact. It’s easier this way.

“Look kid, I told you. This town is dangerous. And my brother’s no different.”

“How can you say that?!” Dipper yells, motioning to the vending machine. “Thirty years? _Thirty years_ , he’s been missing, and you just decide that he’s dangerous?”

“Thirty seconds was all I needed to be reminded.”

It comes sharp and callous, the naïve hope that it would be enough. He was _not_ about to get into this.

“So that’s it? You’re just leaving it at that?” he badgers, insistent. “You didn’t even give him a chance! You don’t know if he’s changed!”

Stan rubs at his cheek, bitter. “Clearly you didn’t see the welcoming gift.”

“ _Thirty years_ ,” Dipper repeats, like he hasn’t heard Stan at all. “He didn’t even know we _existed_ yesterday — and you’re telling us to _stay away_?”

It sounds cruel coming from the other end, but yes, that’s exactly what he’s saying. Stay away. Stay away from him, from the basement. From anything and everything that could get them hurt.

This is what it’s come to. Anything to keep them from getting tangled in the dark web of whatever secrets Ford has left to keep.

“Did you even see his face when he realized who we were?” Dipper prods, hand splayed across his chest. Another thought crosses his mind behind that one, and his expression softens. “…Did you see Mabel’s?”

Stan reflexively cringes when he says it. That’s a cheap shot. 

“I’ve seen parts of him you haven’t — and let’s hope you never do,” Stan says, shoving the register closed. Another mindless task. Wipe down the counter or rummage through drawers? “If you knew, for even a second, you’d stay away without me havin’ to tell you to.”

“You don’t know that,” Dipper counters, shaking his head. The borderline desperation. He hears it. “You’ve both been separated for decades. You have no proof that this _—_ _thing_ between you two isn’t temporary. And even if you did, you can’t just keep him away from me and Mabel.”

A pause.

And the worst possible thing he could hear tonight comes then and there, delivered with such sincerity that it feels like poison.

“He’s _family_ , Grunkle Stan.”

_~~(‘They’re the only family I have left!’)~~ _

Stan slams his hands hard atop the counter, igniting a boom that carries through the hollow air of the shop. No part of him was trying to scare him, but in his peripheral, he sees Dipper jump at the sound of it.

“Let me ask then _—_ ” he starts, finally meeting his eyes. “You’ve read it cover-to-cover. What was the last page he wrote in that journal?”

Dipper’s taken aback by the mention of it, eyebrows raised.

“…what?”

“The last page. What’d it say?”

He hesitates. Why should he? He’s seen it. As far as Stan knows, for this summer, he’s lived it. It triggers some sort of mental tug-of-war in his eyes, whether to answer Stan outright or hold his silence.

Stan’s inclined to believe it’s the former, and he fills in the empty gap between them when Dipper won’t.

_“Trust no one.”_

Stan recites it. In the vacuum of the shop, he says it with such perfect mood and intonation, he may as well be reading it straight from the page. Chuckling in disbelief, he turns, craning his head slowly to look at him. “’You really wanna be callin’ someone like that family? Someone who can’t trust his own book, let alone anyone else?”

It hits a sore spot. Dipper deflates as he says it, like it’s only just now sinking in. Stan sees him forming some sort of rebuttal in his head, and dashes the chance before it comes.

“You want your proof? You’ve always had it,” he grills, eyes darting to the vending machine, then back to his nephew’s. “Invisible ink. Codes. Experiments. Bunkers and labs, and whatever other crackpot means he used to hide what he wanted.”

His face hardens, when his mind drifts to the brand in his shoulder. The only proof he could ever need, still all this time, burning if he so much as remembers that it’s there.

_‘Whatever other means he wanted.’_

“You want your proof? _You’ve known all summer._ ”

The silence following it is deafening.

Dipper says nothing at first. Stan sees it, the rock in his gut betraying his fleeting composure. Even still, he searches his head for something, _for anything_ to ignore everything Stan’s just trampled over.

In the end, he only steps back, at a loss for words.

“But those aren’t…but he isn’t— ”

_“Dipper,”_ Stan presses, glaring him down. He doesn’t jolt this time, but he sees the shift in his nephew’s eyes. Pointing a hard finger at him, the ice in his voice could freeze the blood boiling in his veins. “ _Stay away from him_. I’m not gonna keep having this conversation.”

And maybe that’s enough to send the message. When his hand falls flat to the counter again, Stan feels the water still between them once and for all. He waits for the retort that never comes, but Dipper’s expression says everything that he won’t. He sees it run through too many emotions for him to process — shock. Pain. Denial.

Defeat.

He passes through each of them, and inevitably, the anger they all amount to.

For a heartbeat, Stan’s convinced he can see the storm beginning to brew inside him. Scowling, balled fists shaking at his side. He glares with eyes that could burn holes right through him, his cheeks taking on a red sheen that wasn’t there a minute ago. If he’s anything like Stan was when he was younger, he knows he’s one impulse away from a mistake.

But not as much like Stan as thinks. Maybe that’s the saving grace in this.

Before it manifests to anything, Dipper turns hard on his heel to make a beeline for the living room.

From beyond his line of sight, Stan flinches at the loud _bang_ against the wall — or maybe through it. That’s all dependent on how much Dipper’s toughened up this summer, or how brittle the plaster of the house has grown.

When he’s out of earshot, Stan sighs aloud, letting the front drop. Removing his glasses, he pinches at the bridge of his nose, drained.

It’s late.

_‘C’mon kid…’_

He’s already lost a brother through the portal.

He’s not about to lose a nephew.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, comments appreciated ♡
> 
> [Tumblr Link](https://endae.tumblr.com/post/163542126315/39-stan-doesnt-matter-with-who-else)


End file.
